"Foggy, rainy, and high humidity is no way to end the month, October."
Okay, that doesn't have quite the ring to it as Dean Wormer's advice to Flounder: "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son." But it will have to do. I'm not trying to mold Animal Housies into productive citizens.
Wednesday morning, I went to push in some chairs the students left gaping as they shot out of my classroom faster than the cartoon Tasmanian Devil. I swear. If I told them to leave the chairs gaping, they would jam them in tighter than king-size, 61-pound-gaining, disability-seeking Homer Simpson stuck in a water slide. It's a kid thing.
I almost threw out my back. Thank the Gummi Mary, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has an industrial-strength backbone. Those chairs were harder to move than a 10-ton Acme anvil plopped onto a landscape of flypaper, narrowly missing the Roadrunner. BeepBeep!
This was so different from the day before, when those chairs slid easier than an anorexic wearing bowling shoes across a polished marble floor coated with Crisco.
Remember, my 31 desks and 32 chairs have 252 chair-shoes among them. You can't tell me that every one of those shoes stepped in gum overnight. No sirree, Bob! And short of gravity multiplying exponentially overnight, or Mrs. HM losing 99% of her muscle mass from too many recliner naps...there must be another explanation.
I think it's the humidity. Those felt-bottomed chair shoes soaked up their weight in water vapor, and were too bloated to move two inches. Even when strongly encouraged by man-handling. Not that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has man hands. She doesn't even like lobster.